Raven's skilled hands were light and comforting in Octavia's hair, stroking the locks and undoing as many knots as she could; Octavia was too tired to raise her head from Raven's lap to thank her, but she imagines doing so, and hopes that counts for something.
Leaves nearby crackle underneath Bellamy's boots, and Clarke comes up behind him, her voice coming from the same place he's working his bowdrill to light the fire.
"How is she?" Clarke asks. Raven's body shifts, leaving Octavia's head against the fleshier part of Raven's thigh, and Octavia can't help but wonder how Raven would react to her hand underneath her head, just close enough to touch her - whether she'd move away, hoping Octavia wasn't awake anymore.
She was too tired to be thinking about things, let alone things that take so much energy, but she can smell Raven, not just the dirt and grease and rainwater, but her, and when Octavia momentarily entertains the thought of how good she must taste, she gulps.
"Seems relatively fine. She's stopped bleeding," Raven attests. Bellamy and Clarke sigh in relief. The trio speaks no more, and Octavia falls asleep with Raven's fingers still playing with her hair.